


all I want is nothing more

by shukagari



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Getting Together, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, and slight angst, block of cheese, but it was fun, i am exhausted, only iwa and oikawa plus side oc iwa's mum, red scarf of fate lol, they're older in this, this took me forever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shukagari/pseuds/shukagari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a mild winter's day; Iwaizumi is dressed in only shorts and a burgundy sweater. There is a man further down the path he's walking on; he wears a long coat and a red scarf. They haven't noticed each other yet.</p><p>(All I want is nothing more, to hear you knocking at my door).</p><p>- Basically all of the tenderness and awkwardness of first dates, youth and falling in love - and a little bit of self-discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all I want is nothing more

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just practising how to write transitions between scenes, and also a new writing style for me - may be kinda choppy. Parts of this came to me when I was like halfway to sleep and I liked it so I typed up the plan on my phone whilst dead-tired, when I woke up I didn't have much of a recollection of it but I decided to write it up properly anyway (the full process took me around a few weeks to complete. Maybe more).  
> Iwaizumi strikes me as the type of person to wear shorts in the winter. Attraction/intrigue at first sight idk. Took me so long to come up with a title - so I chose song lyrics. 
> 
> idk why i used 'youth' in my summary like i'm not 18 and I'm describing the foreign concept of love happening to these strange things called young adults. like in actuality i'm a granny (but let's be real, catch me writing iwaoi in my 70s) 
> 
> Warnings: brief mentions of homophobia. Kind of.

It's a mild winter's day; Iwaizumi is dressed in only shorts and a burgundy sweater. There is a man further down the path he's walking on; he wears a long coat and a red scarf. They haven't noticed each other yet.

There is a girl on Iwaizumi's arm. He has already forgotten her name, her words, the reason she is here (his mother's intruding hand had latched this girl's arm onto his own). She chatters happily in his ear. She is a nice girl, he knows, but he does not like her; at least not in the way that is wanted of him.

Iwaizumi looks up when a strong gust of wind blows down the street; it shakes the leaves in the trees, rustles the grass; and Iwaizumi watches as the scarf unwinds from his neck. It raises like a red banner in the wind; and somehow, he knows that he has to catch it.

His feet take off and he's halfway down the street before the thought fully registers. The girl says nothing when he lets go of her, she only watches in quiet contemplation – as if she too knows this is how it should be.

The world narrows down to the man ahead, and the scarf he is trying to reach.

Iwaizumi races passed him, and he lets out a startled cry at Iwaizumi's sudden appearance. He jumps up – arm outstretched. It seems to take an age for his feet to spring from the ground, and in that moment his life rushes in his ears and in front of his eyes - all laid out in front of him, but right ahead is the unknown, a crossroads and this strange man stands at one turn, his mother at the other.

His fingers catch on the red material, and it all rushes back into focus. The man's flowery cologne clogs up his nose, he feels the pounding of his own heartbeat in his chest, hears the blood rushing in his ears and then the quiet panted breaths of the man beside him.

Iwaizumi turns back to him with slow steps, and feels the air rush out of his lungs, his next breath stutters in his throat. The man is brown hair, soft eyes like melted honey, pale skin with rosy cheeks and a small button nose. He can't look away.

Iwaizumi hands the scarf back to him, rather awkwardly, and wonders why he'd felt the need to run so desperately for a stranger. Their fingers brush, and his own spasm for a moment and catch on his. He takes his hand away with an embarrassed smile on his lips, his cheeks reddened.

Their eyes catch, and hold.

The street is empty but for the two of them. The girl does not watch them a few steps behind. A woman does not open her front door to put out her cat. An old man does not sit in his garden a few houses down reading the newspaper. They are alone.

“Thank you,” the man breathes, his voice is calm and soft (it tickles Iwaizumi's ears), and stares at Iwaizumi wide-eyed and breathless.

Iwaizumi stares back, equally wide-eyed. “It's okay,” he replies.

It should end here, but this is fated – so they carry on.

“I'm Oikawa Tooru,” he introduces himself.

Iwaizumi swallows, stores the name away for safe keeping and says, “Iwaizumi Hajime”.

Oikawa smiles.

Iwaizumi feels his scowl smooth out.

Oikawa scratches the back of his neck, “Let me give you my number?" He says, and digs his hands in his pockets for a pen. "I'd like to thank you in some way for getting me my scarf”.

Iwaizumi gives him a pen, after his search ends up fruitless, and Oikawa smiles brightly in thanks. He holds Iwaizumi's hand with gentle fingertips as he writes his number onto the back of it.

They say farewell. (We'll meet again soon). Oikawa looks back over his shoulder twice as he walks away; each time a smile pulls at his lips when he sees Iwaizumi is still watching – and then he disappears out of sight when he turns a corner.

“Did you know him?” the girl asks when she reaches him.

“No,” Iwaizumi replies.

“Oh,” the girl says, her face a perfect example of the word. “It just seemed like you did”.

–

His mother is waiting impatiently on the other end of the phone line when he gets home to his apartment.

“How did it go?” Her anxious voice crackles through the speaker, and fills his ears.

Iwaizumi thinks of Oikawa, feels a tremor of excitement run through him at being on the verge of something new. “It went well,” he answers, a soft smile touches his lips.

“Good” she says, sounding pleased. “When will you see her again?”.

“I won't,” he replies.

–

“Iwaizumi, let me take you to lunch,” Oikawa says when he picks up the phone, two days after their first meeting.

“How did you know it was me?” Iwaizumi asks, startled.

“I didn't,” he replies, “I've just been answering all my phone calls that way since we met”.

Iwaizumi snorts into the receiver.

“Did I make you laugh?” Oikawa asks, genuinely curious and a little more than pleased.

“Yes,” Iwaizumi replies, “you are different”.

“Different good?”.

“Good... I think. It's nice,” He admits, and then draws his eyebrows down and wonders if he's said too much.

A pause. Oikawa muffles his smile into his hand. Iwaizumi waits.

“You think?” he questions Iwaizumi's choice of words.

“Well,” Iwaizumi says, “we've only just met. How can I know?”.

“You have a good feeling then?” Oikawa continues with another question.

“Yes,” he replies, after a moment of deliberation.

“So,” Oikawa starts, Iwaizumi can hear a smile in his voice. “Lunch. What are your thoughts?”.

Iwaizumi only answers with, “When and where?”.

–

The restaurant is more high class than one Iwaizumi would choose. The staff are dressed in waistcoats and black trousers; when he gives them the name 'Oikawa' he is lead to a booth that looks out over the busy high street.

Oikawa is waiting for him. He smiles around the rim of a dainty cup filled with lemon tea.

“Hello, Iwaizumi,” he greets, placing the cup down in its saucer.

“Hello,” Iwaizumi says in return. He puts his coat on the back of his chair before sitting down. Oikawa's red scarf is folded neatly in his lap.

Oikawa hands him a menu, and then peruses through his own. Iwaizumi looks through it studiously, carefully turning over each glossy page. The names are all fancy, or they are dishes he's never heard of. He looks at Oikawa and raises his eyebrows in a silent plea. “I'd recommend the Caesar salad,” Oikawa advises.

–

The salad isn't particularly good. The portions are too small and Iwaizumi is saddened by the lack of meat. Oikawa seems amused by all of this as he takes a bite of his steak. “Do you like this?” Iwaizumi asks, hoping for a trade.

“I've never had it before, I just wanted to see what it was,” Oikawa says, all amusement and no remorse.

Iwaizumi glares at him.

Oikawa grins cheekily. “Want some of my steak?” he asks, already cutting what is left of it in half. He slides a piece onto Iwaizumi's plate.

The steak is much better, not too chewy, and not overdone - Iwaizumi decides not to trust Oikawa again if there is a future in these lunches. Or he decides he's done with salads altogether.

“So,” Oikawa says, holding his cup in his fingertips and peering over the top of it as if it were a pair of glasses. “What are you Iwaizumi?”.

The question makes something heavy settle in Iwaizumi's chest. He swallows down the rest of his bite of steak dryly and stares at his salad. “I'm an unmarried man who wants to settle down with a wife and have kids,” he recites in a monotone, and takes a stab at his greens.

Oikawa raises his eyebrows, “I did mean job, but... I can see marriage is at the forefront of your mind, even though,” he taps a long finger against his cup, “you don't sound very enthusiastic about it”.

“I am,” Iwaizumi snaps, his frown pulls down and he looks away – glares at the napkins folded into the shape of swans on the opposite table.

Oikawa sips his tea and looks out the window; Iwaizumi shovels salad into his mouth.

–

His salad is gone. He stares at his empty plate morosely, then sneaks a look at Oikawa – he appears completely at ease; staring out the window with his chin delicately poised in his hand. Iwaizumi bites his lip, fidgets a little and, “Sorry” he mumbles.

Oikawa's eyes are immediately back on him, he smiles warmly. “It's okay,” he says.

Iwaizumi scratches at his neck. “What about you Oikawa?” he says, and then clarifies, “what are you?”. He raises his glass of water to his lips, swishes it around his dry mouth and waits.

“I don't know yet, I'm trying to figure it out,” and then he abruptly leans across the table, into Iwaizumi's space, “maybe you could help me?”.

Iwaizumi stares at him wide-eyed and breathless - chokes a little on his sip of water.

Oikawa leans back comfortably in his seat, the old leather creaks beneath him. He stretches his hands above his head with a groan, then drops them in his lap and lets out a sigh, “Let's go somewhere else”.

–

They go to a park with a fountain at the centre, the path they walk on stretches passed a vast, dark lake and the sky has already started to go black. They walk a little ways apart; Iwaizumi feels like he intimately knows each centimetre between them – and his heart rate picks up each time something draws them closer together. (The wind, a passer-by, their own strange magnetic force – something Iwaizumi can't yet understand.)

“Do you like the winter, Iwaizumi?” Oikawa asks, whilst loosening his red scarf at the neck a little.

Iwaizumi shoves his cold hands deeper into his pockets, “I have no strong opinion either way,” he replies.

“Hmm,” Oikawa says, and looks up at the darkening sky (all soft blacks, whites and greys – and then the moon comes out with all the stars). “I like it.” he decides, finally.

“Why?” Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa purses his lips. “I just do,” he says, “I like the cold much better than hot weather, sweating is not something I enjoy for one thing – especially after I've done my hair”.

Iwaizumi snorts, and pulls up his shoulders so the collar of his parka will hide his grin. Oikawa bumps lightly against him.

“Is there any other reason, other than your hair's increased life-span, that makes you like the winter?” Iwaizumi asks, laughter hiding in his voice.

“Don't tease,” Oikawa says, smiling over at him, and he bites his lip when their eyes meet. Iwaizumi feels something warm melt slow through his body.

They continue to walk underneath the fluorescent light of lamp posts, they sink into the moon's pale-lit darkness when they step out from under the light's glow, and then back into full light again with another step. Iwaizumi watches benches appear out of the gloom, and winter-brittle trees drop their leaves – that float down like flotsam in the gentle breeze.

“Say,” Oikawa starts, a questionable lilt to his voice. “Would you mind if I gave you a nickname, to show we're friends?”.

“Depends on what it is,” Iwaizumi replies, suspiciously.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa beams, his smile brighter when the street light hits him full on, and makes his pale face glow and pink lips stand out – before they sink back into shadow.

“Iwa-chan?” Iwaizumi asks, feeling slightly dazed.

“Yes,” Oikawa says.

“Okay,” he agrees.

The frosty grass crunches beneath their feet. Iwaizumi stares intently out across the water, looking at the moon's bright reflection, and he startles a little when Oikawa links his arm. “It's cold out,” Oikawa says in explanation.

Iwaizumi feels his face go warm; Oikawa hides his smile in his scarf.

–  
“It's been lovely to be with you today Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, in the lit up stall of a bus stop.

“Same to you,” Iwaizumi says loudly, so the sound of the bus door creaking open doesn't drown out his words.

Oikawa clutches his fingers briefly as he walks passed, “I hope to see you again soon,” he says, sincere, and then the bus doors close behind him.

Iwaizumi watches the bus until it turns off around the corner, and then he stands there a moment longer – waiting for his heart to calm in his chest.

–

His mother phones him;

“You taking care of yourself?” she asks.  
“Yes,” he replies, to the point.  
“Good. How have you been?” she asks.  
“Good...happy.” And he smiles.

–

Iwaizumi goes to work; eats home-made cheese sandwiches in the canteen, talks to co-workers, phones clients, goes to meetings, writes up reports – and thinks endlessly of Oikawa.

–

He calls Oikawa up a few days later.

“Iwa-chan,” he chimes when he picks up.

“How did you know it was me?” Iwaizumi asks.

“I have your number saved now,” he says.

“Oh, right. Of course,” Iwaizumi says, embarrassed. He tugs at the collar of his work shirt.

Oikawa smiles down the line, “Is there anything I can do for you?”.

Iwaizumi fidgets, “I was just calling,” he begins, “to see how you are, you know...just to talk”.

“Hmm, I'm good Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, “how are you?”.

“Good,” Iwaizumi says, “thank you”.

“I'm happy to hear it,” he replies. Pause. “I have some paperwork to do.”

“Oh...” Iwaizumi says, “I'll leave you to it then?”.

“No. Stay on the phone with me will you? It's easier to get boring things done when someone's with you, I think,” He murmurs, quiet so that Iwaizumi knows he is sincere.

“What happens if the person is really annoying?” Iwaizumi queries, voice quiet too.

“You aren't annoying at all though, so this hypothetical situation is useless to us,” Oikawa says.

Iwaizumi stays on the phone breathing quietly into the receiver, sipping tea and reading a book. There's the occasional unintelligible murmur and page turn on Oikawa's end – it should be strange, but it isn't.

“Iwaizumi,” the silence they had created is broken; Iwaizumi quickly swallows his mouthful of tea.

“Yes?” he asks, sputtering a little.

“Can I see you again soon?”  
–

Oikawa comes to Iwaizumi's apartment, and Iwaizumi feels stupidly nervous about whether it's tidy enough, whether it's too dark, whether it smells nice and so on.

“I brought alcohol,” Oikawa gives in greeting, handing the bag off to Iwaizumi as he walks in. “Your apartment is nicer than I expected Iwa-chan” he says, doing a full step circle as he looks around.

The entryway is a brightly-lit corridor with rooms branching off the sides (kitchen, bathroom, dining/living room) and at the very end is the bedroom (large room, hardwood floor, sliding door wardrobes, a double bed and a half-wall of windows).

They set themselves up in Iwaizumi's room, eat microwaveable curry, that goes down just fine with a glass of water, whilst watching a rerun of an old sitcom (Oikawa laughs aloud, grins over at Iwaizumi after each joke; Iwaizumi flushes each time and smiles easier) – until Oikawa cracks out the alcohol.

They lay back on Iwaizumi's bed, pass the drink back and forth – sit up a bit to swallow, and talk; it all feels incredibly melodramatic, to Iwaizumi, at least.

“Tell me about your family, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, between a hiccup, as he hands the bottle to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi takes a swig. “It's just me and my mum,” he says.

“What about your dad?” Oikawa asks, peers over at Iwaizumi with warm brown eyes and thick eyelashes.

“They got divorced when I was young, didn't see much of him. My mum raised me by herself,” he takes another sip, then hands the bottle back to Oikawa.

Oikawa holds the bottle to his chest, and doesn't drink – he looks up at the ceiling. “I'm estranged from my father. My mum says she's happy as long as I am. I love her with all my heart,” Oikawa closes his eyes and smiles.

Iwaizumi decides not to prod him for reasons why. He taps his fingers nervously against the bed, opens his mouth and closes it a few times, then asks, “Does your mum make you go on dates with strangers?”.

“No,” Oikawa opens his eyes slowly, and looks at him again. “Does your mum?”.

Iwaizumi says nothing, just turns his face away and scrunches up his eyes.

“That girl,” Oikawa starts, “the day we met, was she...?”.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi lets out after a moment.

“I'm sorry,” Oikawa says, and puts his hand on Iwaizumi's arm.

Iwaizumi turns to him again. “Thanks” he says, “I know she's just looking out for me. I'd just like to choose for myself sometimes”.

Oikawa runs his fingers up and down Iwaizumi's arm. “So what you said at lunch. Married man and such, that's what your mum wants?” he asks. Oikawa isn't looking at Iwaizumi, he just stares at his hand on Iwaizumi's arm.

“I don't know,” Iwaizumi says, he purses his lips in thought. “I think I want a wife”. When Oikawa raises his head, he has a strange closed-off look on his face – but he smiles when he catches Iwaizumi looking.

–  
As a young boy his mother grips his hand tightly in hers; “you are going to have such a beautiful wife, Hajime” she says, brimming with pride. “I can't wait to see how your life will turn out”.

As an adult; his mother befriends work colleagues with daughters his age, organises dates for him, checks up on him after each one – all for the reason; “I want grandchildren sooner rather than later!!”. And she regards him with both love and a little disappointment.

–  
Oikawa stays the night after they realise he's missed the last bus (and that he's a little too tipsy to get on one).

They sleep with a pillow wedged between them; and Iwaizumi watches the moonlight that drifts in through the window, turn Oikawa's pale skin aglow.

–  
Iwaizumi walks Oikawa to the bus stop the next morning. They stand close together in the early morning chill – their breath coming out in puffs of smoke.

“It was nice to see you again Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, and puts his fingertips to the palm of Iwaizumi's hand and keeps them there till the bus arrives.

Oikawa waves at him enthusiastically through the bus window, Iwaizumi smiles and gives a little wave of his own. He watches again until the bus disappears off around the corner.

–

When Iwaizumi dreams, he dreams of bright smiles in the darkness, of cold fingertips that touch his palm and a red scarf that raises in the wind – that curls around his fingers, hands, arms; that pulls him forward, away and into something new, something which sets his heart-racing and body aflame – and he can only smile and feel nothing but gratitude.

–  
He spends a few days: reading, working, eating, sleeping, watching the television, and staring at the shaft of moonlight that comes in through his window and wishing he could see it dance across Oikawa's skin again.

–  
Oikawa calls him just as he gets home from work;

“I want to see you again, Iwa-chan”.  
–

Iwaizumi finds Oikawa on one of the piers that stand out, solitary in the dark lake.

“I brought coffee,” he says by way of greeting, lifting the metallic flask in his hand.

Oikawa smiles at him, “Aren't you the thoughtful one”.

They sit on a park bench by the edge of the lake, and watch the sun dip below the horizon. Iwaizumi puts his fingers over Oikawa's to make sure he keeps the cup steady as he pours. Oikawa's eyes grin through the cloud of steam rising from his cup.

“We should go to the cinema, your choice this time,” Oikawa says, and then he slumps against Iwaizumi's shoulder and lets out a long yawn.

Iwaizumi stiffens, and then relaxes after a moment. “Busy day?” he asks.

“Yeah, I'm tired,” he says, and nuzzles his head into his shoulder.

Iwaizumi, tentatively, brings a hand up to card through Oikawa's hair. They sit quietly, Oikawa letting out breathy sighs and Iwaizumi's fingers gently untangling knots.

Oikawa abruptly lifts his head, and Iwaizumi's hand slips down to his jaw, gentle. He keeps it there, just looking at his face with soft eyes, and then he moves to pull away - embarrassment and uncertainty rearing back up inside of him. Oikawa catches his hand in soft fingers, and holds it there. “Your hands are softer than I thought they'd be Iwa-chan,” he murmurs, his pink lips enunciate each word beautifully, and Iwaizumi watches each one tumble out.

He raises his eyes, realising he's been staring. Their eyes catch, and hold. Iwaizumi's heart is beating erratically.

“Can I kiss you?” Oikawa asks, his lips tremble slightly with the question.

“Yes,” Iwaizumi chokes out.

Oikawa leans forward, eyes half lidded – Iwaizumi stares at his pink, glossy lips. He puts his cold fingers on the back of Iwaizumi's neck and laughs when Iwaizumi startles, “relax” he murmurs, and their noses bump. Iwaizumi lets his eyes slip closed.

Oikawa presses a delicate kiss to his lips, he hovers a moment and then kisses him again – and Iwaizumi feels something settle inside of him that had been out of place for as long as he can remember.

Oikawa pulls away, and bites his lip. “I wasn't sure,” his smile trembles a little, “in your apartment you said you wanted a wife, I'm so glad”. His smile grows big and a dimple appears in his cheek; Iwaizumi finds it incredibly cute.

Iwaizumi leans in and kisses him again; puts his arms around his shoulders and holds him tight.

–

Wrapped in a warm bubble of happiness, he calls his mum when he gets home.

“I've met someone,” he says when she picks up, and gives a small smile to the receiver. “It's just the beginning and we haven't really talked about it – but, I'm really happy,” he continues in a rush.

There's a heavy, excited exhale of breath. “I'm so happy for you!! Do I know them?” She asks.

“No, I don't think so,” he says, “he's from around here”.

Another exhale of breath, disappointed, and Iwaizumi's heart squeezes. “Iwaizumi! You got me all excited, for a second I thought you'd met a girl – but it was just a friend.” She pauses. “I'm happy you're making friends though”.

“Yeah, thanks,” he murmurs, and bites his lip.

They talk (she gushes over possible candidates for future dates; he listens quietly). He hangs up the phone with a bitter taste in his mouth, and feels his newfound happiness shatter around him; he sits there and let's it.

–

He stands at the crossroads again, and turns his back on Oikawa. He stares at his mother, who smiles proudly and says "You are going to have such a beautiful wife". Iwaizumi feels his hapiness dull inside him, until it fades. He stands alone in shadow.

–

They sit at the lake together again – Iwaizumi can't stop looking at the still water. He feels sick, tired and drained and wonders if jumping in would shock him awake.

“Is there something wrong Iwaizumi?” Oikawa asks after Iwaizumi had been quiet too long.

“No” he says, startling back to him. Iwaizumi's eyebrows furrow. “It's just my mum. She's not homophobic, but I don't think she'd like it if it happened in the family.” He looks down at his lap.

“Oh...okay,” Oikawa says, voice quiet. “What...what do you feel about that?”.

Iwaizumi's blunt nails bite into his palm, “I don't want to upset her,” he says. After a pause he asks, “What would you have me be?”.

“I'd only have you be mine, but that and the rest is up to you,” Oikawa lets out with no hesitation.

He bites the smile back at his lip, feels something warm swell in his chest; and chokes out, “Mother wouldn't like that”.

“What about Iwaizumi?” Oikawa asks.

Iwaizumi scrunches up his eyes and curls his toes in his boots. “I'm sorry,” he stutters out, “I can't. She raised me by herself. I owe it to her”.

“It's okay,” Oikawa says, stands up and touches Iwaizumi's shoulder. “I just remembered I have some paperwork to do, I think I'll go home now”.

–  
Iwaizumi drops Oikawa off at the bus stop, and tries to ignore how red his eyes look.

He doesn't watch the bus drive away – he stares down at the ground and feels tears burn in his eyes.

–

“Iwaizumi!” she exclaims when he answers the phone. It is jarring to hear someone sound so happy when he feels so awful inside.

“Yeah,” he says.

“There's a new girl I'd like you to meet, are you free on the 15th?” she asks.

Iwaizumi wonders if this was worth it. “I don't know,” he answers.

–

He hasn't seen or talked to Oikawa in days and he misses him so much it hurts.

–

Oikawa randomly turns up at his apartment days later. “I just wanted to check up on you,” he says.

Iwaizumi rubs at the stubble on his chin, “Why?”.

Oikawa looks a little hurt, and then he covers it up with a smile. “Because we're friends,” he says.

“I was awful to you,” Iwaizumi says, and looks away. “Why would you still want to be friends?”.

“It doesn't matter,” Oikawa says immediately. Iwaizumi wants to argue that it does. Instead;

They take a walk through town, and Oikawa hooks his arm through his, “just as friends” he is quick to say – and Iwaizumi's heart aches.

–

Iwaizumi finds himself thinking of Oikawa's lips in the moments between wakefulness and sleep, they distract him into endless daydreams, he stares at them more often than he should too when they are together – they take a trip to the movies, a seat between them that Oikawa put his snacks on. A trip to another restaurant and this time Iwaizumi doesn't get tricked into choosing a salad. They even go to the beach, in the dead of winter – Oikawa constantly licks his lips so they don't dry out in the salty air, and Iwaizumi can't look away.

Oikawa has become so careful around him lately, Iwaizumi sees him reach to touch him out of the corner of his eye and then pull back before he does – and Iwaizumi hates it. (His skin burns with his phantom touch).

He stares out his bedroom window at the freshly laid snow, and thinks of Oikawa's pale skin. He thinks of Oikawa's cold fingers on his neck. Of Oikawa's warm brown eyes that smile at him over steaming drinks. He thinks of all this and wonders what could've been.

Oikawa makes him so uncertain, and sets his heart off, but he makes him feel calm, refreshed and so damn happy it's almost stupid.

After days of thinking, wanting, regretting and wondering; he calls up his mum.

“I really like him,” he says when she picks up.

“Who? What Iwaizumi?” she asks.

“The person I mentioned awhile ago, I really really like him and wanted you to know before I do anything,” Iwaizumi says, and then waits – heart beating loudly in his ears.

There's a long pause. “Oh okay,” she starts, “I'll...I'll think about it”.

He lets out a breath, and closes his eyes. “I don't need your permission. I just wanted to tell you.”

“I know. I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be this way – I'm sorry.”  
–

“Oikawa,” he says into the phone, “can I see you now?”.

–

Oikawa is standing beneath a lamp post, his red scarf around his neck and snowflakes swirling around him. His nose is a little pink from the cold, but he smiles brightly when he sees Iwaizumi – who feels his heart beat out of time.

“Hey,” Iwaizumi greets, feeling nervous.

“Hi, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says. They pause. Iwaizumi sweats a little. “Is there anything specific you wanted today, or was it just my company?”.

“Erm, I,” Iwaizumi starts, “do you remember when you said you didn't know what you were, and that I could maybe help?” He asks, and looks away, out across the lake that has now frozen over.

Oikawa looks surprised, “Yes, I remember,” he says, uncertain of where this is going.

“Well,” Iwaizumi says, “you can say no, but...but would being mine be enough until you figure out the rest?”. He shuffles his feet in the snow, and digs his hands into his pockets. He waits a moment.

When he looks at him, he sees that Oikawa is pink cheeked and wide-eyed. “Are you being serious?” he asks.

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says, with no hesitancy.

Oikawa blinks at him a few times, his mouth falls open, shuts again and then; “Of course,” Oikawa cries, and rushes forward – pulling Iwaizumi into his arms. “Of course,” he whispers again, head resting on Iwaizumi's shoulder.

Iwaizumi holds him tight and can feel nothing but gratitude for having this man walk into his life, for a wind that blew a red scarf up into the air and called to him. For his mum for organising the date that led to their meeting. For everything that led him to this moment – a moment where everything feels completely right.

He stands at the crossroads again, and this time he chooses right, this time he chooses Oikawa.

  
–

_Epilogue_

“Mm your skin is so pretty Iwa-chan,” Oikawa murmurs sleepily, lips pressed into Iwaizumi's neck.

Iwaizumi swats at him, “Stop it,” he whines, eyes still closed.

“No,” Oikawa says, and moves his lips to Iwaizumi's cheeks. Kissing each one, and then Iwaizumi can feel him hovering over his own lips.

Iwaizumi grabs the back of his head and pulls him down, and Oikawa lets out a muffled laugh against his lips. Oikawa kisses him until Iwaizumi is brought fully into wakefulness, and he blinks the sleep out of his eyes.

The sun slips in through a crack in the curtains, he can see dust swirling in the air and Oikawa is radiant in it's light. “You are beautiful, Oikawa,” he remarks, and Oikawa blushes.

“Is that what I am? Other than yours?” he asks, a coy smile on his lips.

“They're two parts of what you are,” Iwaizumi begins, “you are also intelligent, funny, a crybaby, a terrible cook-”.

“Stop it, stop it!!” Oikawa cries, “just when I thought Iwa-chan was being romantic – he ruins it”.

Iwaizumi laughs aloud and pulls Oikawa to his chest – he wriggles a moment, and then settles – shoving his face into the crook of Iwaizumi's neck, his cold fingers curling around his hip.

Iwaizumi presses a kiss to Oikawa's head, holds him close in his arms, and knows for him, that this is what he'll want for the rest of his life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh so much cheese. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, if you did please leave a kudos or a comment – they are always appreciated and keep me motivated!! I have a load more iwaoi aus waiting to be written up if I can find the time :/ Hope you all have a lovely day :) (also idk what my obsession with tea was in this. I don't even drink it). I'm a little iffy about this, but it's good enough. I like the plot - just idk about the writing and if their relationship is too rushed. Oh well. I've read through it a few times to check for mistakes but I might've missed some :/ I'm really tired now but I'll make some changes tomorrow. 
> 
> Once again, have a lovely day!!
> 
> You can find me at: sakuragimichi.tumblr.com
> 
> edit: thanks so much for all the views, I really appreciate it - thanks for reading. I came back and there were a few mistakes, think I've sorted it all out now though.


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